


Christening

by bactaqueen



Series: Good Night 'Verse [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky’s insecurity, F/M, Fellatio, Frottage, PIV Sex, Vaginal Fingering, lady agents of SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2521958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky just got the keys to his new apartment and it’s time to christen it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christening

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. No profit is earned and no infringement is intended.

Bucky let himself into Stephanie's office and carefully shut the door. She was so engrossed in her work that it took a moment for her to register the intrusion, but when she looked up from her computer screen, she gave him a dazzling smile.

He was never going to get used to how _happy_ these women were to see him and if he wanted to believe it was because they liked him and not just his dick, well, that was his own business.

"Agent Barnes! I didn't know it was my turn again already."

He affected a pout, a show of wounded ego. "Have you been too busy to think of me?"

She laughed, a low sound that sent a frisson of anticipation down his enhanced spine. "I'm never too busy to think of you." Her grin turned wicked. "What did you have in mind tonight?"

Bucky fished keys from the front pocket of his jeans and held them up so she could see the heavy little replica of Steve's shield and the shiny fresh cut of the new front door key. "Wanna see my bedroom?" 

***

He skipped the long ride home on his new bike. Her dress was too short for her to get on without flashing anyone, and she was too much of a lady for that.  _Maybe another time,_ he told himself, and decided he'd ask her the next time she was wearing pants (if, he amended, he didn't decide he could start asking her  _out_ ) . He held her hand on the short walk to the subway. She linked their fingers together, her right to his left, and she stroked her thumb over his knuckles and nudged up against his side as they waited for the train.

"How was work?"

"I wish I could shoot people like you do," she said, making a face.

He surprised himself with the sharp burst of laughter. He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. "You just say the word and I'll take care of them."

"You're a true American hero, Bucky Barnes."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, and even though he said, "Only in the funny pages," he still savored the knot of warmth in his chest.

That warmth was still there, tight and heavy and threatening to spread through the rest of him, when he let them into his apartment and tried to throw his arm out to show off the view straight from the door, through the open living room, and right out the arched windows over the harbor.

She had other ideas. Admittedly, her ideas were right in line with his, but he was still trying for _gentlemanly_.

"Nice place," she said, wrapping her hands in the front of his jacket and pulling him close. "Love the exposed brick." And then she was kissing him.

It was clumsy, teeth clacking and lips in the wrong place, and that was his fault--he was too busy grinning.  _Get it together, Buck_ , he told himself, and planted the metal hand on the brick beside her head and the flesh hand on her ass. He leaned in close and got it right the second time, parted lips and the slip of his tongue and the flavor of her finally.

She liked to kiss, a detail unique to her, one of the many that made up her dossier in his mind. He liked that she liked to kiss, more than he'd ever admit (unless she asked--he had a rule about lying to girls, especially pretty ones, and especially if it had to do with them). Now that he had her all to himself in the privacy of his home, he wanted to make her understand that she could keep _just_ kissing him as long as she wanted.

He wasn't in any hurry. Barring a catastrophe, he wasn't going anywhere. And he was, even if this wasn't a sniping situation, patient.

So they stayed like that for a while, her body between his and the wall, his hand on her and her hands on him, barely parting except for breath and even then he found he could breathe just fine if he kissed her neck, or lipped her ear, or licked at her collarbone. When she shifted restlessly, he eased his thigh between hers. Her hands went to his hair and she bit at his lips, pulled him closer until he was crushing her against him and even that didn't seem to be enough.

But he waited. He waited until she started to rock, little ladylike rolls of her hips, grinding herself against his thigh, before he helped her work her skirt up around her hips and slipped his metal hand under it.

She gasped when his cold metal fingers trailed up her inner thigh.

He thought about pushing two fingers into her just because he could, because she was ready, but this was the first time he'd had her for more than a brief window of precious time at work, and he wanted more than that. So he pressed his wet mouth to her ear and he set the tips of his fingers against her through her panties. He talked her through it, breathless and low-voiced, as he used his fingers on her, slow and steady and unerringly precise.

She pulled his hair and sighed and arched against him when she came.

Bucky buried his face against her hair and held her tight as she relaxed in his arms. He kissed behind her ear and then down, along the side of her neck, breathing in the final lingering traces of her perfume.

She released his hair to stroke her fingers down his neck and over his shoulders. "Are we christening the place?"

He fought a smile, nipping at the junction of her neck and shoulder instead. When she slipped her hands into his jacket and started pushing, he let her take it off of him. "You're my favorite, Stephanie," he said.

She laughed. "Of course I am."

Free of the jacket, he put his arms back around her and squeezed her ass with both hands. "Living room's next."

"Lead the way."

By the time he got her into the living room, he was down to his shorts and she was down to her panties. She was all amused smiles and roaming hands and Bucky was clever, he only turned on one of the table lamps, not the bright overhead light. No reason to make the lady uncomfortable--or himself. Because if he was honest, yeah, he was a little apprehensive about being naked.

It was the first time he'd been naked with her. With anyone, really, since...

He put it out of his mind and laid her out on the couch. It was big enough for a couple of super soldiers and comfortable enough for long naps. It nearly engulfed her. He planted his fists in the cushion and leaned over her, kissing her, kissing and kissing and kissing until his lips felt raw and he couldn't breathe. He peppered kisses down her neck and over her chest, lingering at her breasts and on her breastbone. Even though he wanted to bite over her hips and lick over her belly, all he did was peel her panties down her legs and bury his face between her thighs. His hands on her legs pressed her thighs to his ears, her knees hooked over his shoulders, and he closed his eyes and set his tongue to her.

Hot and wet and rich from her own earlier release. He groaned into her and dug the tips of his fingers into the flesh of her thighs.

She pulled at his hair and sighed his name so, so prettily. He bit back the whimper at that, at the overwhelming warmth inside him. He just licked into her and held her close.

And then she said, "Come on, get up here."

Bucky slid up the length of her. She shifted until they were laid out along the couch, and her knees rose around his hips, her feet on the backs of his knees, and he had one hand under her head and one between their bodies. Her head went back, her neck arched so invitingly, when he slid inside.

The best part was getting to kiss her as he moved inside her. She put one arm around him, fingers gripping the small of his back, and she put the other fingers in his hair, and her hips and lips rose to meet him. Bucky took everything she offered.

The worst part was going off well before she did. He bit off a curse and pressed his face to her neck. He used his human hand that time, selfishly, fingers framing his cock as he pulled out and then rubbing her clit the way he'd learned. She threw her head back and made the most amazing sound when she came, and he pressed his mouth to her throat just to feel it.

Maybe also to hide his smug smile.

Not that it did any good. She laughed breathlessly and lightly punched his shoulder. "Get off of me."

He laughed, too, and stole a kiss, but he rolled off of her and offered his hand. "Hungry?"

He was standing in his living room in nothing but his shorts with a wet spot on the front and she was naked on his couch. He couldn't help the grin. It was nice to feel _happy_.

"What have you got?" she asked, letting him help her up.

"Let's find out."

Minutes later, he was sitting on the cold tile floor in his kitchen with his back against cabinet doors and her sitting on his thighs. The box of day-old pizza was out, open, on the floor beside them. He tried not to stare at her hard nipples and the goosebumps rising on her skin in the blue-white glow from the open refrigerator. She drank Steve's housewarming champagne straight out of the bottle.

"Seventy years of backpay and the Avenger's paycheck and Captain America couldn't get you a bottle of something decent?" She flashed him the label of the Veuve Clicquot.

"Hey, the guy at the shop said that was good stuff."

"Not good enough," she said, and he couldn't help noticing just how wet her lips were when she offered him the bottle.

He took it, tossing what was left of his pizza into the sink, and took a long swig. Champagne didn't mean much to him, but it seemed to him no matter how you dressed it up there was only one real reason to drink anything like this. He watched her watch him, and as he lowered the bottle, she shifted until she was straddling his lap, her thighs around his waist and her hips locked to his.

"Your mouth is unfair."

He laughed. He reached up and back and set the bottle on the counter as he wrapped an arm around her. "I can be pretty fair," he disagreed.

She groaned. She ran her fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and sending little jolts down his spine and straight to his dick. "Bet you like dating more now than you did in the forties."

He turned his face to kiss the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. He liked the tattoos (and the piercings, and the unnatural hair colors, and all the new and different ways women made themselves prettier). "Dating's not as different as everyone likes to think."

"Oh, yeah?" She rocked a little against him. "What was it like? Back then."

"A lot like it is today." He pulled her closer, until her breasts were crushed to his chest. "Only real difference is, not as many girls let you put it in." He jerked his hips up to illustrate his point. "Had to save something for the wedding night," he added, and winked.

She laughed.

He was hard in his shorts, his cock snug between the lips of her cunt, against her clit, and he gripped her hip tight and kept his metal arm around her back. She rocked against him, grinding a greedy rhythm. He bit his lip and looked between her eyes, her mouth, and their bodies where they were pressed together.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked quietly. "Can you...?"

She made a low, breathless noise. " _Yes_."

When she came, he got to watch her, bathed in the light from the refrigerator. They were sitting on the floor in his kitchen and she was naked in his lap and it was so far from where he thought he'd be he reeled as if he was the one recovering from an orgasm.

He nuzzled her her hair at her ear and kissed her neck. "Ready for the bedroom?"

She wriggled a little closer. "Give me a sec, I'm not sure I can walk yet."

"That's not a problem." He cupped her ass in both hands and stood. He kicked the refrigerator door shut on his way past.

She gave a short sharp cry of surprise and wound her arms and legs around him. "Bucky!"

"That's right, sweetheart, keep saying my name," he teased, back through the living room and into the bedroom.

She laughed at him. "How many rooms do we have after this?"

"Mmm." He laid her down on the bed. "Just the bathroom. I should have gotten a bigger place."

"I think I'm glad you didn't," she said, and she sounded a little drunk, a little sleepy. She threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled his face down to hers.

He went easily into the kiss, one hand under her back and the other in the bed beside her, and he settled his weight between her thighs. He rocked against her, had half a mind to get off like this, rubbing against her like an inexperienced teenager. He didn't think she'd mind--they'd done it before (at work, in her office, in a hurry on her lunch break). He spilled his tongue into her mouth and settled a little heavier against her.

Her knees rose around his thighs and she scraped her nails down his sides. He gasped into her mouth. He'd forgotten about that.

He caught a glimpse of her wicked smile before he found himself flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. She was over him, her fingers linked with his and guiding them up, until he could hook them under the headboard.

"Don't move," she said.

He lifted his head. "Don't I at least get a kiss?"

She obliged him.

And then she was sliding down his body.

Bucky dropped his head back and closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn't come too quickly. He imagined it could be a problem for him. It had been... a really long time.

She slid his shorts off and he heard them hit the floor. And then she was stroking her hands up his thighs and her lips were hot and soft on his hips, on his belly beneath his navel. He held his breath as she licked her way down.

He nearly came off the bed when she closed her lips around the head of his dripping cock.

Bucky curled his fingers around the edge of the headboard and didn't bother trying to keep himself quiet as she wrapped a hand around the base of his dick and bobbed her head. He tried not to swear, tried to hold back the stream of curses, but it was no good. It was too much. The wet heat of her mouth and the steady stroke of her fingers. Stars burst on the inside of his eyelids and down his spine. At least he managed to shift his hips and warn her.

When he could see again, he looked down. She sat on her heels between his spread thighs, looking entirely too proud of herself. Her lipstick was smudged and her hair was a mess and there was a high flush on her skin.

"Don't look so smug," he huffed. He felt like he'd run a couple of marathons.

She just smiled at him, the cat that got the cream.

He groaned and dropped his head back. "Give me a minute."

She just smiled and tipped to the side to stretch out beside him. She was careful not to touch him, but close enough to not really be distancing herself. In the quiet, in the afterglow, Bucky felt acutely aware of his nudity and how very fragile this thing was between them. Before everything happened, there had always been a definite end to his encounters: the girls he saw couldn't afford to be seen spending the night. And _since_ , everything had been quick, and everyone had had a clear and convenient out. But now...

He breathed out slowly and turned his head to look at her. "One more room?"

She closed her eyes. "Oh my god, Bucky, _no_. I am worn out." But she was still smiling.

So he took the chance. "You could stay the night and we'll get it in the morning." He didn't even bother trying not to sound hopeful.

Her grin was considerably less nervous than he felt. "I thought you'd never ask."

Joy blossomed on his face and inside him. "I've got a clean t-shirt if you want one and there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom," he said in a rush.

"Perfect."

He'd never had the chance to do this, to get ready for bed with a woman. He felt... well, he felt a lot younger than he was, and maybe a little giddy. Just because he was feeling it didn't mean he had to _talk_ about it.

She took the bathroom first, a quick shower and brushing her teeth before she slipped into one of his "vintage" Dodgers t-shirts and a new pair of shorts from the top drawer of his dresser. He liked it and he tried not to grin like too much of an idiot when he slid past her to take his turn in the bathroom.

When he came out, she was already settled in on the side of the bed she wanted, and she was looking at him calculatingly as he shut off the lights.

"How cold does that arm get?"

His heart leaped in his throat. "Why? You a cuddler?"

"I might be for Bucky Barnes."

So what if he looked like an idiot? He grinned and climbed under the covers beside her and shut off the bedside lamp. "Good thing," he said, "because I definitely am."

 


End file.
